


Form Ranks

by TaraTargaryen



Series: The Nuclear Option [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fate, Feelings, Fluff, Love, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 10:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6901387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraTargaryen/pseuds/TaraTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between End of the Line and The Replicated Man. Adeline and Danse face a new challenge after Danse's banishment from the Brotherhood of Steel. Can their fledgling relationship survive the Wasteland?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Form Ranks

**Author's Note:**

> My long awaited return, I'm sure, ha ha. I got all my term papers in on time, but after that, my will to write was just dead. Or taking a long nap, as it turned out. To celebrate my triumphant return, I need to write something smutty. I've been hiding this piece for a REALLY LONG TIME. So I sat down and I've literally spent two days refining it.
> 
> I hope it makes the cut. But maybe I'm just freaking out about my assignment and exam results, which haven't been released yet. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. Lots of character development. It was refreshing to get back in there, I must say. Can't wait for Far Harbor!

The moment was too perfect to speak. Side-by-side, they sat together, boots dangling over the precipice as the sun rose over Sanctuary Hills. Adeline's head was resting on his pauldron and he could feel her hair blowing gently in the breeze, fluttering against his cheek. They had interlocked the fingers of their gauntlets and Danse twisted his neck ever so slightly, so that she could stretch her neck up and - 

"General!" Leaves and twigs snapped under his boots, Danse heard his breath coming hard. "General, we've received an important radio from the Castle this morning." 

Danse reluctantly heaved himself to his feet, giving Adeline a hand up. She lingered against his chest tiredly before addressing Preston. 

"What is it?" 

"Hostiles have been seen scouting the perimeter. Synths. And Coarsers." The Last Minuteman sounded desperate, even to Danse. "Ronnie Shaw is practically begging for reinforcements. They're too close for the artillery to fire on." 

"Can Sanctuary spare Sturges? Will Jun Long have enough men left to hold down the fort here? They could be targeting the Castle as a distraction, to take out the smaller settlements while our backs are turned." Adeline might not have been wearing the ridiculous frilly General's coat but the frosty snap reappeared in her voice and her spine straightened almost imperceptibly. Between them, only Danse recognized the way Adeline shifted from wary soldier to alert commander. He'd seen it a hundred times over, in Paladins Gunny and Krieg, in Proctor Teagan and Lancer-Captain Kells, and more than anyone else in Arthur Maxson. 

"We're taking ten men and women who've seen the most combat. Jun's team are armed with missile launchers, .50 cals and heavily modified pipe pistols, thanks to you." Preston inclined his head. "The artillery at the bridge is on high alert. Croup Manor, Sunshine Tidings and Knightsport are sending every spare man they have and trading routes are halted until further notice. Awaiting your orders, General." He regarded the small woman sombrely. 

Adeline nodded. "We'll depart now. You and Sturges at least should borrow suits, but I don't have enough fusion cores for the team. I also want every settlement, every farm, every ditch and burrow in the Commonwealth alerted, by radio or footmen, I don't care. I won't have the Institute sneak up on us, Garvey. See that it's done."  

 

As Garvey raced back down the hill and Adeline turned on her heel. "Will you wait for me here or will you go back to your bunker?"  

Danse blinked, already engaging his fighting muscles from his neck to his toes. "I'm right behind you." 

"The Castle's proximity is too close to the Prydwen. I won't risk your head, not for me, not for the Minutemen." Her jaw set in a familiar, stubborn line. 

Danse hitched his helm up under his arm. "They won't even be looking for me. Don't expect me to sit here and wait around while you have all the fun." He scowled.

"The Danse I know would never call combat _fun_ ," Adeline replied scathingly, folding her arms. Just as he was about to retort, she broke. Her face fell into her hands, and she looked every bit as exhausted as Danse felt. "I can't do this. I won't fight with you, I don't want that. I've been down that road before and... and things are so uncertain," Grey eyes met his, fear-filled and anxious.

"I know." He told her. "I _know_." Danse enveloped her, difficult with two sets of power armor between them. "I need you by my side, watching my back. And I don't trust a single other person out there to watch yours for me, so I need to do it."  

Adeline gave him half a smile, the tiniest of smirks twitching on her bottom lip. "Ok. Ok." She inhaled deeply, composing herself. "Helmet on, soldier." 

In a single motion Danse lifted his helm and let it compress around his face, knocking three times on his head for luck. 

 

He liked the Castle, though he would never have admitted it out loud. Inspired by the Prydwen, it was Adeline's most heavily fortified base. Forty beds lined corridors, each one assigned to a Minuteman. The officer's quarters contained another eight beds and two shared office spaces. The General's office didn't impress Danse much. A whiskey cabinet stood against one wall, though all the bottles inside were covered in decades of dust. Adeline's desk sat opposite; an elegant, dark-wood affair with a faded gilt inlay. The boardroom table seated ten, and matched the desk. Bookshelves lined the rear wall and a Minuteman flag was pinned up above them. Ronnie Shaw and three Castle officers, plus three delegates from the largest of the settlements were present and seated. Adeline sat at the head of the table with Danse on her right, Garvey on her left and Sturges to the right of him.  

"Good evening ma'am," Garvey addressed Shaw. "Is everyone here?" He peered around the table. 

"Now that you're here, it is," Shaw nodded gruffly, a long, spiny thistle poking out of her thin-lipped mouth.  

"Institute hostiles have been reported and confirmed to be scouting the perimeter of the Castle." Preston restated the mission, looking gruff.  

"We're about to find out of these new Minutemen really have what it takes," Shaw added thoughtfully. "Looks like the Institute is getting ready to try to take us out. We've seen some of them _crow-things_ sneak right up to our door. They're equipped with Stealthboys. We wouldn't have even noticed them if they didn't engage the Tesla arcs." Shaw shot Adeline a prideful glance, nodding in respect.

"I told you I take security in my settlements seriously, Ronnie. They're _called_ Coarsers; and they're deadly." Adeline responded tactfully. The two women had butted heads often since they'd met. Shaw usually made the mistake of underestimating Adeline and God only knew the pint-sized Sole Survivor had had enough of that.  

 

The rest of the conference consisted of Adeline rattling off orders to officers, even rounding on Danse and giving him work, for which he was both surprised and grateful. He headed up to the garrisons with Sturges and began inspecting the artillery. Five heavy cannons stood proudly on each bastion, facing their respective compass points. The sight of them instilled Danse with confidence, though the Prydwen hung in the sky to the east, filling him with other, less enthusiastic emotions. He snapped his attention back to Sturges, who was eyeing him curiously. They turned to the northern-most cannon, greeting the Minuteman in charge of it.

"The rotary mechanisms keep jamming up with salt and rust, blowing over from the coast," the man began in a heavy Bostonian accent. Grimly, Sturges and Danse got to work. 

He was easy to work with, Danse decided. The southern twang of his accent amused Danse in the oddest of ways, and his thorough attitude to repairing and maintaining the guns was refreshing. The three cannons on the eastern aspects of the facility were the worst affected due to their proximity to the sea, and two of them needed formal dismantling, cleaning and oiling before Sturges gave them 'two thumbs up', as he called it. They spent the rest of the afternoon hauling cannon balls up from the basement and dividing them among the five bastions. 

"Chow time," Sturges decided, slapping the last gun fondly, and Danse wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a wet rag, now warm and sticky from a hard afternoon's labor, following Sturges to the mess.

 

"...I think it's a good idea. It would certainly improve _my_ morale," Danse could hear Adeline from down the hallway. "For God's sake, Preston, this is _Boston_. And I haven't had a decent clam chowder in figuratively _forever_. I'm organizing a mirelurk hunt, I think we can -" 

Danse tuned her nonsense out as he made a beeline for the food.

Ronnie Shaw sat straight-backed and tight-lipped as ever; across from Preston, who was enjoying having his ears talked off by Adeline. He and Sturges grabbed bowls from the stacks under the sink and scooped up bowls of Instamash and steaming molerat stew. It was just the five of them, Danse realized. 

"I was hoping we'd get to sleep some time tonight," Sturges announced dryly. "I don't fancy having to kill a bunch of synths on a sleepless night." 

"That would put us at a tactical disadvantage," Danse agreed. The molerat meat was vile, but whatever sauce it had been cooked in helped it go down easy. "The guards on night duty will alert us if anything happens. I recommend sleeping in your uniform with your weapons in arms reach in case of emergencies. Is the Castle alarmed?" He wanted to know. 

"Sure is," Shaw piped up. "The General here made sure of that." 

"So we're doing this the Brotherhood way?" Garvey snapped across the table sarcastically. 

"It's an intelligent, tactical decision, Preston. I'd have the men here do it every night if I knew I wouldn't wake up with a hat full of spitballs and piss in my boots." Her point made, Shaw put her hat back on and marched out of the mess, shooting Preston a reproachful glare. 

 

Sturges took to Adeline's 'lurk chowder idea a little more enthusiastically than Garvey had. Danse went back for seconds, enjoying the passable food and the pleasant banter. They all washed up and dried their dishes, and left the mess hall one by one. Hesitantly, Danse followed Adeline into the General's office and Sturges and Preston pretended not to notice as he pulled shut the heavy, wooden doors behind him.

Danse's voice caught in his throat as he regarded Adeline in the dim light. Her pout lifted up in a soft, coy smile and she disappeared into the wall. _Not in to the wall,_ Danse chastised himself. There was a narrow opening behind the bookcases, disguised so well he hadn't noticed it before. She stretched out on the biggest, oldest bed Danse had ever seen in one piece. He turned a choke into a cough, internally cursing himself for suggesting they sleep fully clothed. She pet the bed beside her softly and he crossed the room in two strides, hesitating at the bedside. "I promised to be patient," she told him gently, meeting his eyes.  

He sat down stiffly, swinging his legs up one at a time and leaning back into the pillows, hardly daring to relax. Slowly, she fit herself along the length of his body, molding against him; tucking her shoulder under his arm and resting her head on his chest. One hand inched cautiously across his chest, and her contented sigh was enough to make Danse stoop his head and tenderly kiss her forehead, nuzzling her soft, sweat and soap-scented hair with his nose.

"Tell me about the Railroad." He asked quietly, watching her face twist with pain.  

"Maxson made it clear if I defied him again, he would make me suffer. But it didn't matter. I wanted to prove that I was still loyal to the Brotherhood of Steel. I am, after everything... I did it, didn't I? I did what I was asked to do. I did it for Maxson; and for you. The night he gave me my promotion was awful. Knights and soldiers were stopping me in the halls and commending me, for _murdering_ you. Our brothers and sisters, people who had fought by your side were congratulating me. Except for the ones that were accusing me of _knowing_. And I couldn't do anything." She buried her head against his chest.

"It was the same. When I killed Cutler. I remember... vividly, actually." Memories long buried fluttered awake in his mind and the old ache of guilt returned. "There was one in particular that stood out. This young girl coming up to me. Cutler had sponsored her, trained her, mentored her... knowing Cutler he had probably slept with her at some point. She came up to me and saluted me. Praised me, for killing the only friend I'd ever had. I couldn't say anything, because, well, he was a super mutant." Danse twined his fingers with Adeline. He had never spoken the words aloud before. "I guess, in the moment, I didn't think about that. All I thought about was killing a super mutant. That's what I was taught." Danse stared up at the stone ceiling. He remembered Fawkes, standing at the gate of the citadel, Righteous Authority pointed at his head. _I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry._ That was all the big green dumbass could say. Yellow eyes filled with remorse Danse didn't want to see, and he'd carried out Arthur's command. They gave the Lone Wanderer a hero's burial. Fawke's corpse had been left to rot in a mass grave of super mutants and feral ghouls. _He didn't deserve that,_ Danse reflected. _And neither do I._  

Adeline hiccuped. "I went to the Old North Church. All I could smell was you, all that stale sweat and hydraulic fluid left behind in your suit. I kept turning around, expecting you to be there, but you weren't. All I wanted was to run back to your bunker and make sure Maxson kept his word. But I was there to prove my loyalty, so I stayed. I had all my brothers and sisters behind me. I had some go around in through the back, and I had a couple jetpack up to the bell tower and come down inside through there, but I stayed in the front. We took out seven Railroad heavies, and nine more in the catacombs. Two of my soldiers got shot and I had them sent back up immediately. I promised you, and Maxson, I wouldn't let a single one die. Glory didn't recognize me in my Brotherhood armor." Adeline's voice lost all feeling, and she continued on flatly. "I killed her first. Tinker Tom was cowering behind Drummer Boy and Doctor Carrington. I blew Carrington's knees out and smacked Drummer Boy's head against the brick. He didn't get back up. I put a gun to Carrington's head and shot him. One of the knight's behind me fired at Tom's head, and then... then he didn't have one anymore. I was just standing there when I realised Desdemona had the Railway Rifle. She pinned an initiate to the wall by his hands. I saw blood. I remember barreling into her, and she dropped her gun and I picked it up... I crucified her. I nailed her to the floor. She was speaking but all I could hear was the initiate screaming. He might have lived but he'll never use his hands again." 

Danse had no words for the carnage Adeline was speaking of. He'd seen the bloody aftermath, and now the memory was burned into his mind forever. "Deacon was last. He knew me. I don't know how, but he did. He was always like that, I guess. He said -" she hesitated, her voice sounding small. His hand found hers and wrapped around it, warm, smooth and soft. "He said, 'Ignore the verbage, and look at what the Brotherhood are doing. What they're asking you to do. What sort of world will they have you build, and how will they pay for it?' And then he dropped his gun and I... shot him anyway." She finished mournfully. "We were supposed to be friends. I knew that was it. I had gone as far as I could, away from the woman I used to be. The woman my husband married. In that moment, it was all gone." 

"That's what made you go back? To Vault one-eleven?" He waited for her response with baited breath. 

"I couldn't remember the last time I'd lived up to his name. I thought that I was doing what he would do, back in the beginning. I wanted him back so badly I thought I could bring him back to life with actions, if that makes sense. But I can't. I was a housewife, a lawyer, a mother. I never fought at Anchorage. I never infiltrated the Red Chinese lines and blew up their supply warehouses." She was angry now. "When he came home and he was suffering from PTSD, all I did was yell and nag about _my_ problems, how _I_   was feeling. How alone _I'd_ been. How awful it had been for me, not knowing if he was alive or dead. I never once asked him how he was feeling, how it had been for him. When his father died, from cancer," Adeline wiped her eyes. "I took a step back and I saw... I realized I was destroying my family. How out of love I was, with my husband, with my son. My whole life. I struggled to find myself again, but so did Nate. We were in it together, we were a team again for the first time in years. We got Codsworth. We bought a new house, closer to Nate's family in Concord. We bought a car, we started going out to dinner together, we fell in love all over again. All I could think of was how lucky I was to get a second chance. A lot of wives didn't get that. My sister and my best friend got divorced, within a couple of weeks of each other. Nate's best friend, the best man at our wedding, beat his wife in a PTSD attack one night, and three weeks later killed himself on a chem binge. All around me, people's lives were falling apart but mine was getting _better_. And then I woke up on October twenty-third, twenty-two seventy-seven." 

 

Adeline looked harrowed, recounting life before the War. Danse was as still as the grave, listening. "So I went to my husband, and I apologized. For being a shitty wife, mostly. For not being the one to carry Shaun into the vault. For surviving. The unfairness of it all. I made my peace with him and let him know I was moving on. I just can't... be that woman anymore. Deacon's face will haunt me for the rest of my life but I can't hate myself for that, because, at least it isn't yours."  

 _A human for a synth._ Danse couldn't decide if he was alright with Adeline's decision. For a moment he tried to imagine the roles reversed. If it were Adeline in his place, and Arthur had sent him to kill her. _I would have done it._ There was no question. He would have ended her existence. _And died, cold and lonely, knowing everyone I ever got close to wasn't human._ But in reality, Danse was the synth, Adeline the human. The warm, loving woman who had spared his life, and convinced him it was worth living. _Don't make my mistakes._  

"You made a choice. It is what it is," he told her frankly, and felt her nod against him. "You can't take it back. But you can always choose to be better next time." 

She drifted off to sleep, curled around him. She looked so vulnerable and exposed he had a hard time falling asleep. Anything could creep in and attack at any time, and he fought his drooping eyelids. 

 

At least until the raid sirens went off, early in the morning. Danse jerked awake as Adeline leapt across the room, flicking the safety off her .50 cal, and disappeared down the hallway before Danse could say anything. Loading his weapons and buckling his ammo belt, he joined the men in the courtyard. Coarsers and synths were swarming everywhere security was lacking. Stealthy and hard to kill, with Institute teleportation on their side, the battle was looking extremely one-sided. Men were shooting and hacking and slashing, sometimes at thin air. They were also falling. Tesla arcs lit up all around the Castle, shocking some unwary Coarsers. Danse's hair stood straight up on his head, crackling with static electricity. When the laser turrets were set off, the Castle lit up like daytime. Danse ducked and weaved across the courtyard, desperate to get to the storage room where he had hung up his armor next to Adeline's. When he got there, hers was gone. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

"Paladin Danse!" Ronnie Shaw screeched at him. "Out! Out! Out! We're locking down the west bastion!" Danse quickened his pace, elbowing synths left, right and center. It had been a while since Danse had engaged in hand-to-hand combat and he felt thrilled to his core. His boots connected with steel and circuits and fleshy humanoid faces. His gauntlets wrapped around throats and pulled at limbs, tearing machines apart. A bullet whizzed over his shoulder, and a Coarser's face erupted in a bloody spray, frayed wires fizzling. He spotted Adeline with a grin, up on the Castle battlements, fist touching her heart briefly before dashing off across the wall. Danse flicked on his interface. 

"There you are," he told her, swinging a synth by the wrists into the mud, stomping down on its back. 

"I'm keeping my eye on you, don't worry," her voice was distorted by static. "How are we doing down there?" 

Danse switched on his VATS. "Not good. It's almost eight to one. I'm not sure the Minutemen can keep up." 

"Not good enough." She retorted, gasping for breath. "Get to the south-east bastion. I'm going to dive off the wall and set off electromagnetic pulses in my boots. Synths and Coarsers will drop in a twenty-five foot radius. Make sure you're well out of it, Danse." 

 

His guts dropped through his arse and he made a break in the line of synths, dashing for the wall. Sturges reached out a gauntlet, pulling him through the rubble at the last second. "Take care now," he drawled with a grin.

"Are you out of the way? I can't see you!" Adeline demanded through the interface.

"Affirmative. More Coarsers are coming this way, move now!" Danse raised his weapon, covering Sturges. He strained his ears, hearing only static through the connection, and then he _felt_ her hit the ground. Sturges stumbled to his knees, and Danse groaned as the EMP burned through him, setting his brain on fire. He opened his eyes, seeing only sunset, and a copper-haired woman pulling off her rusted T-45 helmet.  

"Paladin Danse," she smiled, reaching out a hand. 

"Paladin Danse!" Sturges was shouting, holding out his gauntlets. Dazed, Danse grabbed onto them and let himself be hauled to his feet, unsettled by the hallucination. He ignored the ringing in his ears and ducked back around the Castle wall. Adeline and Preston had formed a circle of Minutemen that was slowly widening as they advanced on the enemy. Sturges and Danse split, each crawling up one side of the ruined western wall, firing from both sides. The synth waves were lessening in strength. Danse wondered how many more the Institute was willing to lose.

He tore his eyes away from Adeline ripping off a Coarser's head with her hands and stomped on a fallen synth's chest. " _For the Brotherhood,_ " he growled, regret stinging the still-fresh wound of loss. A Coarser teleported into the Castle directly behind him, and before he could move, it tore the fusion core out of the socket and tossed it away, staring blankly at the space over Danse's shoulder. He felt his cooling system shut down immediately along with his VATS and communication interface, and the hydraulic joints freeze into place. His air filter went into preservation mode, hissing around his ears. Paladin Gunny's strength training kicked in, giving Danse the adrenaline to move but it felt like trying to run through water. With his helmet on he was blind to everything not directly in front of him and trapped inside his suit. He struggled to reach his fist to the manual override decompression button on his shoulder, helplessly feeling each dent; hearing each scrape against steel as bullets rained down on him, drowning him in metal.

Every step made his bones feel like lead and though his mind was reacting to the onslaught around him his movements were clumsy and sluggish. Once he had beat a Brotherhood record for running an obstacle coarse in the Citadel in power armor with no fusion core, and battled a wave of personal fury at letting his training go. He had become complacent in his position as Paladin, a combination of laziness and an affinity for upgrading his own technology had weakened his strength. Or was it because he'd been replaced by a synth? Maybe he had never undergone strength training with Paladin Gunny. Maybe that was someone else's life, a skill he'd never had. Sweat poured off his face as he boiled inside the heavy metal. Agonizingly slowly, he took a knee, and shielded his face with his forearms, and waited for the end.

 

-

 

"Get off!" she was snarling authoritatively, "Get the _fuck_ away from him!"

The sound forced him to take another breath, forced air into his lungs. Something shoved into his back, _hard_ , making him stumble forwards. Weakly, testing that the air around him was in fact, _not_ made of treacle, Danse reached up and pulled off his helmet. Relieved brown eyes met furious grey ones, that softened on contact. "Take a step forward." He obeyed. "And another. And another. Alright, lets get these rigs back to the hangar."

Every muscle in Danse's body burned with an intense fire he hadn't felt since his days as an initiate. The walk to the storeroom felt like the longest walk he had ever taken in his life, but he kept his eyes forward and didn't stop moving. When he was finally able to decompress his suit he slid out of it like a wet noodle and collapsed into the chair Ronnie Shaw offered, head in his hands. Adeline stood in front of the empty power armor with her back to him; arms folded. 

"What happened?" he finally asked. 

"We won," Preston replied gravely when nobody else answered. "We lost so many... but we won."

"We couldn't have done it without General Adams," Sturges added softly. "She gave us the edge we needed with that EMP stomp. Took out more'n half the Coarsers left."

"And then some. The synths dropped like flies too," Ronnie clapped Adeline on the back, ignoring the General's flinch. Adeline exhaled loudly and stormed out of the storeroom, into the garrison. The four of them pretended not to hear her cursing.

 

Mirelurk chowder was on the menu in the mess that night. Danse helped himself to seconds and thirds and even a fourth helping, thanking whatever Gods were out there that had sent the Wasteland a woman that could cook. The survivors were unusually quiet, mourning their dead. _This is nothing like a Brotherhood victory,_ he thought somberly. There was no celebration of success. No grand speeches, no field promotions, no heavy drinking and certainly no lascivious cavorting. Only a guilty, breathless relief, shared quietly by the spared. Adeline appeared in the doorway, dressed in the Commonwealth Minutemen uniform.

"We bury the dead tomorrow at dawn. Those of you with spare hands are very much needed. I commend you all on your performance today. The raiders and the Gunners should be quivering in their boots, because the Minutemen are back." Her jaw was set forward proudly, but her grey eyes were downcast. She retreated back out the door. Danse remained in the mess, long after everyone else had cleaned up and left.

Many of the beds lining the hallways were empty that night. Any one of them would have served its purpose perfectly well, yet instead Danse felt himself inching further and further down the hallway, lingering in the shadows. The General's doors were opened, and an oil lamp cast shadows across the boardroom table. Adeline was pouring over a map of the Commonwealth, tracing old lines and scratching at her notepad quietly.

"I wasn't sure you'd stay the night." she told him, without looking up.

Danse inhaled, choosing an ancient whiskey from the cabinet, and setting two glasses down on the table. He sat, and watched her sketch new trade routes, and add mirelurk breeding grounds around Fort Independence. Finally, she set down her pencil and palmed her whiskey.

"Why did you give up?" Adeline kept her voice level and her face blank. 

Danse took a long, purposeful gulp, staring into his glass. "I don't know."

They sat in silence for what felt like eternity. "I don't believe you." she half-whispered finally. "Talk to me. Don't let me sit here like this."

"When you're an initiate, you have to be trained in wearing power armor. You don't just get given a suit and a briefcase full of fusion cores, you have to work for it. If you can't pass the training Paladin's obstacle course in under an hour without a fusion core in your suit, you don't get your certification. No cert, no suit." Danse snorted, remembered Paladin Gunny's favorite slogan. "I should have been able to move in that suit regardless. When that Coarser took out my fusion core, I could barely lift my fingers. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. Sweat was blinding me and muffling my ears. I should have been able to move!" he slammed his glass down.

"The X-01's weren't -"

"That has nothing to do with it!" Danse interrupted, glaring at Adeline. "I cleared Paladin Gunny's obstacle course in seventeen minutes and twenty-eight seconds. The fastest in Brotherhood history. _I should have been able to move in that God-damn suit!_ " 

Sturges coughed in the doorway, and two heads snapped towards him. He dragged the heavy old doors closed behind him, looking apologetic. Danse remained stony face, listening to the soft footfalls back down the hallway until he couldn't hear them anymore.

"I started thinking... about weakness. My first thought was just that I'd gotten careless. But then I realized, maybe that's not it. Maybe I never ran that course. What if I'm not the one that broke that record?"

 

He stared Adeline down, livid, although her eyes had filled with compassion and sympathy. She got to her feet, and rounded the table, sliding backwards up on it so she was facing him. "So you gave up? You were just going to let that Coarser tear you limb from limb, while I watched, helpless, from the garrison?"

"This isn't about you." Danse growled unhappily.

Adeline had the grace to look ashamed. "You're right. That was a selfish thing to say."

She placed a hand on his cheek and he leaned into it, reflexively. He looked up into her eyes, surprised. She gazed back down at him, serious and wary. He leaned in, until their foreheads gently brushed together and ran the tip of his nose down her soft cheek. He could feel the air escaping her lips with each exhale, and breathed it in. He closed the gap between them.

The first time she had kissed him, on the forecastle of the Prydwen, had been unforgettable. That kiss was filled with warmth and love, and trust. Respect. He was still her commanding officer, and she was only stretching the boundaries; filled with hope. This time her kiss felt like a heat-seeking missile. She was searching for a reaction. Danse felt his body give it to her. He held her head in his hand, and let the other one run down her body. She sucked gently on his tongue and he felt her hand between his legs. She gripped his manhood lightly. "Do you feel like a synth now, Danse? Are you a cold, loveless _automaton_ after all?" She spat, pulling away.  

Arthur's words twisted in her mouth made him growl again. "No."  

"Prove it." She stood up, and for a moment he saw how much he'd hurt her.

 _You aren't her commanding officer anymore,_ he reminded himself. _You're not even a member of the Brotherhood. Are you really planning on staying celibate for the rest of your life, carrying a torch for a woman you'll never touch?_   Danse took a step forward, backing Adeline against the wall. He kissed her hesitantly, trapping her against his chest. _If you don't want her, tell her. Don't you think she deserves to be loved?_ MacCready's demand had hit a nerve.  

"I do love you." He said finally. "I've loved you, all this time. I've just been so afraid of myself, of my future... I never wanted to hurt you. I thought that because I was a synth, I couldn't love you. That I didn't deserve your love. We might have had a future in the Brotherhood together, but out here..." He closed his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"You're not a synth to me. I'm still loyal to the Brotherhood but I would defy Maxson every day for the rest of my life if I had to. I'd do it for you," she told him seriously, and Danse almost laughed. He stroked her copper hair, marveling at the ridiculous height difference between them. As if that was their biggest challenge. 

 

"If I lost you, I don't know what I'd do." His heart thudded and he held her tightly, hoisting her up his waist with little effort.

"Then don't." She rested her cheek on his. He felt the flutter of her lashes against his skin. He kissed her deeply, feeling her mouth move in sync with his. She tugged on the buckles of his uniform, freeing his neck as she wrapped her arms around it. A contented sound escaped her lips as he tangled her up in his arms, and headed for the barely noticeable gap in the shelves. "This isn't like you at all," she murmured silkily against his throat. She kicked her boots off and slid down his waist, landing on the balls of her feet. He grasped at her jacket, peeling it off her shoulders and picking at the buttons on her shirt. Her fingers wound their way across his bare shoulders, slipping under the fabric of his faded orange flight suit and pulling it down his arms. 

Danse felt his way down her body breathlessly. She was as soft to touch as he'd imagined, though her body was rippled with new muscle she hadn't had when they'd first met. She felt full under his fingers and his desire to unwrap her from her clothes increased. He forced himself to keep a steady pace. "I've never done this before," he admitted, planting kisses along her jaw and down her throat. 

Her hands enveloped his wrists, stilling him. "You've never done this before?" her eyes were filled with questions. 

He swallowed. "No."

"But you want to. Now. With me?" 

"Adeline, I never wanted anything in my life before the Brotherhood of Steel, except a warm bed and a pocket full of caps. After I found it, I never wanted anything else except to prove that I was worthy. Make no mistake," he warned. "I was fully prepared to enter a relationship with you under the Brotherhood's tenants. I think I wanted it so much it frightened me. But out here in the Commonwealth," he gestured around himself. "There's not a single thing stopping us. You mean too much to me to lose."

Grey eyes twinkled mischievously. "I was so _sure_ you would just quote the rule book at me if I tried to sleep with you on the Prydwen," 

"Are you even listening to me?" Danse laughed exasperatedly, eyebrows headed for the ceiling.

Adeline's rosy pout twisted up. "That's the first time you've ever called me by my first name."

He clamped his eyes shut and kissed her again. "Adeline." he grinned boyishly. " _Oh my sweet Adeline_ ," he sang, and smothered her laughter in kisses.

 

Adept fingers drew his zip down to his waist and manipulated it away from his skin. Her hands planted on his bare chest made him gasp. She shrugged her shirt off her shoulders, exposing the bright pink laser burns criss-crossing her shoulder and collar bone. He kissed those too, and filled his hands with her ample breasts. Something silver and blue glittered innocently in her cleavage and Danse ran a finger down the silver chain curiously. "My holotags?" he paused, awed.

"Of course," she replied obviously. "Do you want them back?"

 _Leave them there. Close to her heart._ Danse shook his head, renewing his kisses passionately. He rolled his thumbs over her little pink nipples, feeling them stand to attention encouragingly and moved his lips to them, and the woman they belonged to stifled a moan. Adeline's hands slipped below his waistband, palming his ass lustily. He kicked off his boots, leaning into the mattress he had bent the tiny woman over, and let her peel the rest of his suit off. He stood back as Adeline wriggled out of her bottoms, feeling strangely self-conscious. He had never stood stark naked in front of a woman before. 

Adeline held his gaze with inhuman strength before gleefully dropping her eyes to his manhood. Her expression turned greedy and smug and Danse felt his cheeks flush pink as he rose to the occasion. He trailed his own eyes down Adeline's body as a way of response, feeling his heart rate hitch and stutter. Danse took a moment to breathe. She was shaped perfectly like an hourglass, and her creamy skin was soft and supple, marked by scars. He traced the old laser burns on her thigh gently. "I'll never forget Arc Jet." she sighed into him.  

"Neither will I." He agreed. Her copper hair was loose around her shoulders, and he brushed it away. She pulled him back towards the bed, shoving him down with a single finger as he slid his hands between her legs. He leaned back into the pillows and let Adeline take charge, admiring the arc her thigh took as she sat astride his body. She stroked him gently and he felt the heat between her legs, and the dull ache between his. He could smell the musty mattress, the sweat from their skin, and the slight tanginess of Adeline's fluid. He reached between her legs to feel it, noting the barely audible, lusty sound his touch elicited. He pressed his fingers to his mouth. She tasted sour, but not bitter, and he liked it. Adeline raised herself up onto her knees, and rolled the head of his organ through her wetness. The sensation left him momentarily weakened, completely at her mercy. She slid down slowly, opening up just for him.

Danse let the groan roll up from deep within his chest as Adeline repeated the motion. He felt invincible, the way he did when his power armor compressed around his body, but also entirely vulnerable. He thrust up, meeting her in the middle of her stride and clamped his arms around her, rolling carefully, pinning her to the bed. Her legs wrapped around his waist, furthering his depth inside her. He gathered her hands and pinned them above her head, holding them hostage. He admired her form beneath him. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion and her lips swollen from passionate kisses. Her breasts bounced with every thrust and Danse was mesmerized. 

Adeline's muscles tightened around his shaft and urged him on. "Danse. _Danse,_ " He loved his name on her lips. He loved _her_.

She matched him, thrust for thrust, hips raising to meet his. It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't the power struggle Cutler had once described to him. Adeline came up to meet him as his equal. Danse buried his face in her neck, as the dull ache in his groin turned into a steady throb, of all the pent-up wanting he had chosen to deny himself accumulated in his final release. He had never wanted to be distracted from his purpose in the Brotherhood of Steel, but was this a distraction? He looked down into Adeline's dove-grey eyes, and she up at him. She wasn't a distraction to him. She gave him a purpose; herself, and he loved her for it.  

"Stop thinking." She ran the soft pads of her thumbs over the scruff on his chin. "Let go. Don't think. Just feel."  

Danse released a breath and let go of his anxiety, concentrating on the building heat between them. His movements grew wilder, he didn't recognize the sounds he made. Adeline steadied him with her hands, and he felt the little tremors running through her. His pace quickened, he felt his organ stiffening and the walls on the inside of her closing in. "Danse." Adeline shattered underneath him, and he didn't know if that was supposed to happen, but it felt right. With a primal gasp he met his own end, feeling himself spill inside her. They lay intertwined together, unmoving, catching their breaths.  

"That was exhilarating." He told her finally, and he meant it. He felt achingly _human_.  

"You said you'd never done that before," Adeline accused playfully. Danse hid his grin against her breast. She nuzzled into his hair, making a contented noise.  

You never told me why you cut your hair." He stroked the ends. It was touching her shoulders again, not as long as the day she had saved his ass at Cambridge, but no longer the choppy mess it had been the day he'd taken her aboard the Prydwen. 

 

"Valentine and I were clearing out a new settlement for Preston. Sunshine Tidings co-op; I've taken you there on my rounds. Nick was running diagnostics and I was checking the furniture in the mess, seeing if any of it was still usable. A feral ghoul Reaver must've been sleeping under one behind me. It crawled out and attacked, catching me off guard. It tore the pins out of my head, and got its fingers tangled up in it. I thought it was going to tear my head off. It almost did. Nick came sprinting in and aimed a shot through its elbow. His aim was off because he didn't want to shoot me in the head but if he hesitated I was dead anyway." 

Danse lay frozen beside her, fury and relief warring inside him. Adeline continued. "Two shots to the head and it was out like a light. But I couldn't get the hand out of my hair. I think I was screaming. I must have gone through every profanity in the book. Nick tried to get it out but I locked myself in a bunkhouse and cried hysterically until he stopped pounding on the door. I couldn't get the feral sounds it made out of my head and the rotting arm was dangling around my shoulder. Eventually I had to let him in, though. He held my neck and chin still while I hacked off my hair. And then I kept going. I tried to make him shave it off, but he wouldn't. I looked a right mess for a while, I'm sure. Eventually I found that guy in Diamond City, he tidied it up for me." Adeline rolled over to look at him. For once Danse had no words. He stroked her waistline with his thumb drowsily, watching her fall asleep. 

 

-

 

Danse woke up slowly, wincing at the burning in his muscles. He'd feel the battle for The Castle for weeks, he was sure of it. Adeline was still snoozing softly by his side. He watched her breasts rise and fall, the silver of his holotags trailing between them. He let his eyeballs run sneakily down her body. His manhood had stiffened again in his sleep, a phenomenon he hadn't experienced since his late teens, as far as he could recall. His lover sighed, arching her back, pressing her buttocks up against it, and rolled onto her stomach. Danse placed himself between her legs. She was warm, and moistening slowly, and he rocked himself in and out, feeling her stretching to accommodate him.

"Oh," Adeline moaned sleepily. 

"Good morning," Danse spoke pleasantly into her ear. Adeline arched her back again, and swallowed his organ inside her. He pinned her down and made love to her slowly, while she playfully struggled to free herself.

"Paladin Danse!" She cried out, exploding into orgasm underneath him. For a moment he pictured them together in his bunk on the Prydwen, doing very, very indecorous things to each other and grunted to his own finish. Radio Freedom announced the time of eight hundred hours and Adeline swung her feet breathlessly over the edge of the bed. "Tell me I can expect to wake up like that every day for the rest of my life?"

Her face was hopeful and Danse felt that silly grin spread back across his face. She buttoned the General's coat on over her very naked body and picked out a fresh change of clothes, kissing him lightly and heading for the showers. 

 

Danse's Brotherhood uniform was covered in Coarser blood and sweat. Someone had kindly left a pair of men's jeans and an _Atom Cats_ t-shirt out in the boardroom. On the Prydwen there might have been a summons; there definitely would have been looks and snickers, a high five or two amongst the initiates. In The Castle, it seemed, no one cared. Ronnie Shaw didn't blink as he left the General's quarters. Sturges looked up from the radio station in greeting, and Preston gripped his forearm in a gentlemanly manner and somberly handed him a shovel.

The heavier the work, the better. Preston rolled out Adeline's map, marked with new places for burial grounds. She had scrawled all over them in her loopy, ladylike hand, he noted. Before long he was around the north-eastern bastion with two of the Minutemen, hauling rocks and timber planks. The Minutemen still reminded him of the Brotherhood, back in Elder Owyn Lyon's day: _disorganized and far too charitable for their own good._ But they were strong, hardworking. They cared about each other, they looked out for each other in a way that Arthur Maxson never would. If Adeline was choosing to throw her lot in with them, they had a good chance of surviving.  

Sturges jogged over with a couple more volunteers as the sun was almost risen. "Let me take over here. You should take a break and get some breakfast. And do you mind passing these on to the General?" he winked, handing Danse a small stack of envelopes.

"I don't see why not." Danse shrugged with a friendly smile and headed for the mess with his team. Mirelurk chowder was on the menu again and Danse let the smell of leftovers waft into his nostrils eagerly.

"The General and her bloody soap!" He heard someone sigh exasperatedly as he queued up to wash his hands.  

"And yet you haven't gotten sick since we got here, Frederick. If the General says hygiene is a priority I see no reason not to go along with it!" His woman companion chided.  

Danse chuckled to himself, grabbing a plate. "Anyone sitting here, General?"  

"As a matter of fact, I'm waiting for my date," Adeline looked over her shoulder. "Six-three, ex-military, hair as black as sin, hot as hell?" 

"Well, not good enough for you then." Danse shrugged and took his seat beside her. "'Hot as hell'?" He murmured into her ear quietly, raising his brows. 

Adeline raised hers back. "You have no idea, love." she replied coyly. 

"These arrived for you." Danse passed the mail over the table, and turned his attention to breakfast. 

"Oh, more love letters and fan mail," Adeline cooed, flicking off the seal with her knife. 

 

"MacCready is back in Goodneighbour!" Adeline sounded surprised.

Danse carefully concealed his scowl. "Outstanding. Why?" 

"I don't know, he doesn't say," she replied. "Looks like I'm making a detour on the way back to Sanctuary Hills." 

"I think you mean, _we_ are making a detour." Danse replied dryly.  

Adeline rolled her eyes. "Nobody is forcing you to come to Goodneigbour. You should get home, Dogmeat will be dying for a proper walk, you can take him out to Tenpines Bluff, or out to the Abernathy's -" 

"The merc bothers me, Adeline, it's not a secret. But he did manage to keep you alive while he dragged you through Gunner's nests and exposed you to two hundred year old toxins, so I guess I should really thank him in person." 

"You're not fooling me." Adeline frowned. "MacCready watched my back and distracted me from lusting after my commanding officer and we became close friends."  

"You avoided me for months." Danse accused. 

"But not for the reason you think," Adeline smiled. 

"No," he replied, eyeballing the buttons on her shirt. "Apparently not."

"We should be finished our work here by this afternoon. Anything else I will leave in Shaw's capable hands, and we'll get out of here first thing tomorrow." she pressed her face into his shoulder affectionately, and he kissed her hair with a wry smile. He was looking forward to another night in the General's bed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, leave me some love and kudos, and let me know what you thought.


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